


Curiosity Can Be Deadly

by Batshit_Bogs



Series: Why Adopt Kids When You Can Adopt Merpeople [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, GORE! SO MUCH GORE OH MY FUCKING GOD, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I legit feel bad lmao Jay i'm so so sorry, Merperson Jason Todd, character gets cut in half, i mean....goretober i guess?, idk i was in a gore mood, it's for your character development tho so y'know, no beta we die like robins, slicey slice, sorry Jason you deserve so much better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batshit_Bogs/pseuds/Batshit_Bogs
Summary: There’s blood all over the deck, on the humans’ clothes. It colors the deck with puddles of rust, and Jason’s own fresh, crimson blood washes over them.Many have died here.Jason refuses to join them-He shouldn't have strayed so far from home
Series: Why Adopt Kids When You Can Adopt Merpeople [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976269
Comments: 28
Kudos: 143





	Curiosity Can Be Deadly

**Author's Note:**

> In my docs this it titled as 'bye Jay lmao 🥂💀🥂' so yeah. I only rewrote this once and didn't reread it again, so hopefully it isn't too rough. 
> 
> If you're into angst and gore and shit, this is the place for you! If you don't like characters dying in bloody gruesome ways, my other mer fic is much softer. Much, much softer. This is gonna get rough.
> 
> **CWs**  
>  _\- heavy gore_  
>  _\- heavy blood_  
>  _\- swearing_
> 
> If I missed anything lemme know

The water is growing colder with the changing of the seasons. Despite the slight chill against his scales, Jason thinks it’s a nice night to be out. The surface is calm, the sky is clear enough to see some stars, and the deep is silent. No boats. No predators. Just him and the sea.

Of course, Bruce told him to be careful before going out. It’s a rare quiet night where there’s radio silence on the hunting and fishing boat radar, so he’s relaxing at the research center. 

Sometimes it’s nice to have some time to himself. Don’t get him wrong, Jason loves his dad, but Bruce can be a bit protective. Or a lot protective. It took a full hour of badgering to get him to let Jason go for a lone swim. 

Jason rolls onto his back and drags his claw tips along the surface. The bay has been feeling cramped lately. Yes, it’s massive, so there’s no shortage of space, but he’s been living here for years. Eventually the same rock formations and currents get old.

The Gotham waters beyond the bay are off-limits, unless Bruce is with him. It makes sense, it always has - the bay is protected. Normal waters aren’t. Beyond the mouth of the bay are traps, hunting boats, fisher nets, and many other mers. Several of which Dick and Bruce have warned him about. They all have tacky names like Black Fin and Scarewyrm.

(Jason is pretty sure Scarewyrm isn’t real. Come on, a rogue mer that has the ability to make you go insane? So fake.) 

Honestly, Gotham waters aren’t all that dangerous if Jason swims deeper than netting reach. And he’s had enough experience avoiding traps to be safe from those, and Dick says that most of the resident pods there are chill. The established underwater society is based on communication, trust, and community. Or so Jason has been told.

He’s never had an interest in mingling, preferring to play it safe and distance himself. Going to school...he would’ve loved it, but large groups are targets for gangs and predators. Not to mention the low security of gathered whelps with only a few maren to protect them.

So yeah, Jason didn’t see the point in risking it. He was preoccupied with surviving the seedier waters he was stuck in, so he didn’t have time for school anyway. 

Jason is fine living with Bruce in the center and the bay, anyway. Just because he wants to go for a few unsupervised swims in the open doesn’t mean he wants to _leave._

Plus, it’s not like he never interacts with other mers. Sometimes a pod stays in the far side of the bay for a few days, and once he got over his initial distrust, Jason had fun hanging out with passing striplings. 

Oh, and there’s Tim, of course.

Tim is..weird, to say the least. He doesn’t seem to know much about mer society, despite his pod being the Drakes. He also doesn’t seem to know about the pods that filter in and out of the bay. The fact that he’s so clearly out of the loop is concerning. That, and he’s alone _all the time._ Tim is too small to defend himself, and no matter how safe the bay is compared to Gotham waters, it’s still dangerous. Hell, he doesn’t even know how to hunt! 

A strand of stray kelp tangles around Jason’s tail and he grimaces. It takes careful pulling to get it off without damaging his beaded cord. 

Something Bruce said a while back after one of his encounters with Tim left Jason feeling uneasy. Apparently the little guy appeared with scratches on his cheek and arm, like he’d been struck or grabbed with claws, and he was oddly nonchalant about it. Like it was a common occurrence. Bruce also mentioned that Tim had disappeared for a week and his pod was sighted in the bay twice - presumably to pick him up and drop him off. Tim didn’t have the injuries beforehand. 

The thought of Tim’s pod abusing him has Jason’s blood boiling. He untangles the kelp and flings it away with more force than necessary. 

It would add up, which _sucks._ Tim is reserved, flinchy, over-apologizes, has clear self-esteem issues, and is lacking a lot of skills that a pup his age should know. So far Jason hasn’t been able to glean any hard evidence from him, but some of the things he says...Jason would _love_ to have a little chat with his pod. 

Maybe...if it turns out Tim really is being abused...he can come live with Bruce, Alfred, and Jason. 

That would be nice. Jason has only known him for a little over a month, and he already kinda sees him as a little brother. It’d be great to get Tim into a better environment. When he comes back Jason will offer him a place at the center. Bruce would definitely be on board - Jason can tell he’s already emotionally adopted Tim, which, honestly, same. And Dick (if he ever visits) would no doubt love Tim too. 

A small school of sardines flickers past him, but Jason is more than full from dinner, and sardines don’t really compare to Alfred’s cooking. He pops his head above the surface and frowns at the mouth of the bay.

Surely it wouldn’t hurt to go explore a little bit on his own. Tonight would be perfect to surf some larger ocean swells, and maybe he’ll run into a dolphin pod - those are always fun. He won’t go far. Plus, Bruce already said the radios are silent, so there isn’t any human danger beyond the rare trap.

What Bruce doesn’t know won’t kill him.

It only takes Jay a few minutes to get to the bay’s border, which he crosses with an excited breach. The change is nearly instantaneous - the current noticeably tugs at his fins, and the water is colder. There’s never time to just float and take in the change when he goes out here with Bruce. They’re always rushing off to take down illegal hunting ships, then they come back at full speed when they’re done. 

The deep shifts in midnight hues and the surface shimmers phthalo. Jason swims at a leisurely pace, taking in the subtle differences in color and enjoying the push and pull of open ocean currents. Strangely enough, there don’t seem to be any creatures in sight. He thinks he saw a whale in the distance, but the sighting was too brief to be sure. 

The stillness is...disturbing. Usually there’s a sea bird napping on the surface, or a lone fish, or a small school flickering in the depths. But there’s absolutely no movement. It reminds Jason of when he can’t sleep and swims through the research center after hours. The sensation leaves his scales crawling. 

It almost makes him want to go back. _Almost_ being the key word - the temptation of rebellion is too great to ignore. 

Just because there isn’t anything around _right now_ doesn’t mean something is wrong. The ocean is gigantic, Jason doesn’t expect there to be creatures around all the time. 

Still, Bruce’s rule echoes in his ears. 

‘ _Don’t go out of the bay alone. It’s too dangerous.’_

Jason rolls his eyes and skims the surface. Okay, _dad._ There aren’t even any resident orca pods in Gotham’s waters (passing orcas are rare), and a shark attack is extremely unlikely, given the nonexistent ocean life. Jason can fight off a shark, anyway.

The silence stretches, making Jason’s ears crackle. To fill the void and for the hell of it, he starts singing. It’s an old song his mom taught him a long time ago, when they couldn’t find food and his spirits were low. The jaunty tune is a sharp contrast of the lyrics - the song is about a whelp that didn’t heed his pod’s warnings of the deep and got eaten by a sea dragon. Jason always found it a little funny. Sea dragons aren’t even _real,_ and why would anyone go exactly where their pod told them not to go?

He grimaces. Okay, so maybe Jason is doing the exact same thing as the whelp in the song. It’s just a stupid song, though, he’s not gonna get _eaten._ He hopes. 

Jason trails off and crosses his arms, floating upside down to scowl at the unending dark below. Sea dragons don’t exist. They _don’t._

“ _This is so fucking stupid,”_ he mutters. He continues on, and restarts the song with vigor. The swooping whistles and chirps, mixed with a word of dolphinspeak or two, echo in the emptiness. The water grows colder as he sings, wandering further and further from home. 

The song tapers off as Jason peeks above the surface (merspeak doesn’t carry right in air) at the city clustered on the coast. It’s closer than he expected - he must’ve wandered farther than he thought.

Gotham is bunched together on its island in a brilliant splotch of light and disjointed shapes. A couple of tiny dots blink above the city, marking where helicopters fly low. No matter how many times Jason has seen it, he’s never gotten used to the sight. When he and Bruce are out at night, he never really gets a chance to float and _look_ at it. Not like when he had been alone in the world, when long, lonely nights were spent gazing at the magnificence that is Gotham.

Countless times he’s wondered what it would be like to go there. Bruce has shown him pictures, but those probably don’t hold a candle to the real thing. Jason would _die_ to see Gotham with his own eyes. To traverse its streets, see its culture, meet its people...it would be a dream come true. The closest he’s ever gotten was when he went to one of the bridges in search of mussels growing on the columns. He had dared to look above the surface at the cars speeding high up on the bridge. Jason could hear them honking, along with people talking and laughing. It was _amazing._

It’s tempting to go over there tonight, but this is far enough for now - his rebellious itch has been scratched. That, and Bruce would probably have about ten heart attacks if he caught Jason. Then ground him. Forever.

It’s getting late, and by now Bruce must be expecting his return. Alfred is making souffle anyway, which Jason is _not_ going to miss out on. For all he knows the delicious treat is waiting for him right now, freshly made and still warm...yeah.

Jason sighs at the city. One day. He dips below the calm surface and begins the swim back home.

Halfway there, though, a panicked screech cuts through the water. Jason freezes on the spot and whips around in the direction that it came from, heart already pounding. It was the desperate, high note mers make when they’re in deep shit. Whoever made that sound is _not_ having a good night.

The cry comes again, and Jason nearly chokes on seawater.

That voice...he _knows_ it. He hasn’t heard it in years, but he fucking _knows_ it.

It’s his mother. But that’s impossible, she died nearly four years ago from a stingray.

The cry comes yet again, and it’s unmistakable. 

_Sorry B, Alf,_ Jason thinks as he chases the sound, _looks like I’m gonna be home late._

Even if it turns out to be just a mer with a similar voice, they’ll be someone he can help. The alarm calls bounce eerily through the empty water, causing an echo that’s hard to track. Jason pushes himself as fast as he can, gills heaving as they struggle to filter oxygen fast enough. 

A kelp forest materializes out of the gloom. The thick strands create a curtain effect and pool on the surface, making a canopy that blocks nearly all light. Jason shudders as kelp slides along his body as he swims around dense patches. He swims slower, more cautiously now - kelp forests are avoided by all but the most experienced or desperate. The abundance of food is never worth the risk. Countless predators hide within the shadows and behind the curtains, not to mention hidden traps and divers. Anything could be hiding in the swaying plants.

The cries are louder now, almost deafening, so Jason can’t afford to back out. His eyes catch on every flicker of movement, even though each time there’s nothing but kelp blades.

_Where are you?_ Jason thinks as he pushes through another curtain. The cries are all-encompassing, to the point where he’s having a hard time thinking properly. It almost sounds like the mer is above him, but all there is is a particularly dense patch of kelp on the surface. Maybe whoever it is (his mom, please let it be her) has beached themself on the kelp float, and for some reason can’t get off on their own. 

Jason swims up to the closest clear spot and peeks above the surface. He blinks rapidly to clear his eyes and squints at the float - wait a minute. 

Oh. Oh no.

It’s not a kelp float, it’s a fucking _boat -_

White light ( _bright, too bright_ ) fills Jason’s vision as a human yells, “There it is!”

Blinded, Jason dives beneath the water. His drive to find his mom dulled his senses before, but how could he have missed the stench of mer blood in the water? It fills his nose as he tries to escape, his mind racing with the realization that it’s a _hunting boat._

Pain explodes in his tail and he screams, then screams again as the hot bundle of nerves grows into an inferno. It jerks him to a stop not three tail-lengths from the surface. Jason gasps for breath, the pain making it hard to see even as his vision recovers from being blinded by the spotlight. 

The pain only increases as Jason starts moving.

_Backwards._

Jason muffles another scream behind clenched teeth and twists to see what hurt him. His gills flutter shut and the scream escapes as a frightened cry, and he starts clawing at the water in a desperate attempt to escape.

It’s a harpoon. They fucking harpooned him, and they’re dragging him back to the boat. 

Jason thrashes, trying to do something, _anything,_ to free himself. He knows what hunters do to mers - he’s seen it firsthand. It’s not something anyone wants to survive. 

Cold night air hits his tail fins first. Jason cries out as the cold creeps over his scales (gasps as it hits the wound) as he’s lifted from the sea. His vision whites out from the overwhelming pain, unable to even breathe around it. 

The pain lessens as he’s dumped unceremoniously on the boat’s hard deck. The stench of blood is _everywhere._ Jason screeches as the harpoon is ripped from his tail. A few humans laugh.

There’s so many of them. They’ve surrounded him, their eyes wide and mouths leering as they look at him like some sort of weird specimen. Jason does his best to growl at them, his gills fluttering uselessly as he struggles to take air into his lungs. His claws scratch along the uneven metal of the deck, catching on grooves and making his nerves tingle painfully. 

There’s blood all over the deck, on the humans’ clothes. It colors the deck with puddles of rust, and Jason’s own fresh, crimson blood washes over them. 

Many have died here.

Jason refuses to join them.

One of the (frankly ugly) humans reaches for his tail. He snarls and smacks them away, then hisses when the movement jars his wound. 

“ _Stay back!”_ Jason yells, flipping onto his stomach so that he can swipe at the nearest human’s legs. She swears and stumbles back, and the crew laughs. “ _Don’t come any closer or I’ll rip your fucking face off!”_

They circle him like sharks, jeering and pointing. Every time one of them gets close, Jason lunges at them and writhes so that they can’t lay a hand on him. His wound screams in protest at every movement, and it’s difficult to breathe, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

At this point Bruce must be coming for him. Jason just has to stay alive long enough for rescue. 

Another spike of pain carves through his tail fin. Jason hisses and yanks his tail away from what’s hurting him, but it only makes the pain worse. He chances a glance at his tail and clenches his jaw to keep from crying out. There’s a knife plunged between the metal floorboards, and a fresh rip in his fin. 

Someone grabs his hair while he’s distracted and _pulls._ Jason internally swears a blue streak that would make Alfred gasp and flails blindly at his attacker. His claws catch on fabric, then on flesh. Whoever grabbed him slams his head into the deck, and his nose breaks with a crunch. Jason splutters on the blood fountaining down his face and filling his mouth. 

“Wow, that looked like it really hurt.”

Jason’s spine crawls at the sound of the new voice. It sets every one of his fear instincts on fire, a primal fear that screams _get away right now, you're in danger, just GO._ He turns his head just enough to see who spoke and his chest tightens. 

It’s the Joker - the most feared mer hunter in Gotham, infamous for catching mers with the express purpose of torturing them. He never keeps them, or sells them. He just kills them in the most horrific ways possible. Whenever he’s on the water Jason is never allowed to leave the bay, even when Bruce goes out to try and save whatever poor mer Joker targets that night. No one knows this fucker’s identity or even what his face looks like. He wears a freaky-ass clown mask and only operates at night.

His boat is rarely seen. It wouldn’t have been reported on a silent night like this. 

Bruce had no idea, and Jason didn’t even _consider -_

Joker tilts his head and rubs at his forearm. The fabric is torn, and Jason feels dull satisfaction at the glimmer of blood underneath. Joker kicks him, his boot catching under his chest and flipping him onto his back. The same boot comes down a second later on his stomach. Jason lets out a strangled gasp as the breath in his lungs is forced out. 

“Now, hang on, that looked like it hurt a lot more.” Joker giggles - it’s a high, sickening noise that makes Jason’s fins lie flat. “I still can’t believe our little trick worked. Who knew someone would come running to see who was in trouble.”

Trick? What _trick,_ Jason would never...oh. The cries from (maybe) his mother were recordings, weren’t they? Joker managed to broadcast the one mer’s call that would drag him in - what a sick fucking twist of fate. He lets his head rest against the deck as he exhales through his ruined nose. Damn it. _Damn it._

“Lucky us, though, I thought we were going to end the night empty-handed.” Joker holds his hand out and one of the crew members passes something over.

Jason closes his eyes for a brief second. Why, why, _why_ does the Joker keep a crowbar on a fucking boat? Stupid question - to beat mers to death, apparently. 

_Come on, B, hurry up._

“We’re gonna have a bit of fun here,” Joker continues. “Oh, if only you could understand what I’m saying - that would make this so much better.”

Jason just barely manages to keep from hissing, _I understand that you’re a bitch-ass murderer that probably eats babies for dessert._ The only reason he doesn’t is out of fear of how they’d react. He’d become an anomaly, something to _inspect._ Joker would probably torture him with the purpose of making him talk, or might even sell him off to some fucked up scientists. 

Instead, he hisses as threateningly as he can manage, flexing his claws along the metal. The crowbar isn’t all that long - if Joker wants to get a good wing in, he’ll have to come closer, which will put him within attacking reach. 

“The little fish has some spunk!” Joker says. He tilts his head contemplatively, like he’s trying to figure out how to approach this. Looks like he doesn’t like getting clawed. 

Well, Jason isn’t a fan of being beaten to death, so fuck ‘em. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees one of the humans lift their boot up over his harpoon injury. Jason doesn’t have time to swing his tail before they stomp on it, _hard._ Jason gasps in a breath and tries to cry out, but he’s cut off as the crowbar swings into his jaw. His sharp canines pierce through his tongue, filling his mouth with copper.

“Let's try to clear this up, and try to _listen_ now, okay?” Joker says. “What hurts more, A?”

The crowbar slams down on Jason’s chest - something cracks. 

“Or B?”

It comes down again on his gills. The forked points of the crowbar catch on the thin flaps and rips one off. Jason doesn’t have the breath to scream. 

“Forehand?”

Another strike to his jaw. A tooth comes loose on his tongue. 

“Backhand.”

The crowbar lands on his uninjured side, right under his gills where the scales are softest. Jason tries to wriggle away, but the boot on his tail grinds into the injury harder, leaving him gasping with blurred vision.

“ _Fuck,”_ he chokes out, “ _Come on,_ B.”

Bruce has to be on his way. He _has_ to be. Any second now he’ll descend on the ship like an avenging angel, and within the hour Jason will be back home. He’ll sleep off pain meds in the sleeping pool. Soon enough this will all be like a bad dream. 

Joker kneels and uses the crowbar to tilt his head up. “A little louder, lambchop, I think you may have a collapsed lung.”

Jason spits the bloody tooth out at him. It plinks off of the freaky clown mask, leaving a small smear of watery blood. Joker kicks him in the side as he stands up, wiping the blood off with the back of his glove.

“Now that was rude,” he says. “I suppose I should teach you some manners...nah, I’m just gonna keep beating you with this crowbar.”

The blows come down again and again. It’s all Jason can do to keep from crying as he keeps up a mantra of ‘ _please’_ in his head. Begging Bruce to get here. The pain is starting to blend together into one mass of writhing agony. 

“Boss,” one of the crew says, and the blows _finally_ stop. “Don’t they want one alive?”

Alive? Someone wants Jason _alive?_

No, oh fuck, please no. Jason knows what that means. It means small tanks with stale, oversalted water. It means being cut off from the ocean forever and being treated like some _decoration._ It’s a fate worse than death. 

Joker hums as he taps the crowbar against his palm. “They never _specified_ how they wanted it. Plus, if they want it for science, we can give them some research of our own.”

The fresh psychotic delight creeping into his voice makes what blood Jason has left run cold. 

“Say, fellas,” Joker purrs, “do you think these monsters can live without their tails?”

Jason can’t breathe.

They’re going to cut him in half. Oh, fuck, oh fucking god, no, please _, please, anything_ but _that._

The humans shift and nudge each other with sick grins. One of them disappears, only to come back a second later with...with a _saw._

“ _No,”_ Jason whispers, fighting down the nausea rising in his throat, “ _please, no.”_

Joker lets out a delighted bark of laughter and takes the saw, tossing the bloody crowbar to the side. He inspects the new weapon with mock interest. 

“Hm...it’s a little rusty,” he says, “but it should do the trick just fine.”

Jason tries to drag himself away on broken limbs over unforgiving, blood-slick metal, but someone grabs his tail and pulls him back. He chokes on his fear as he tries to wriggle out of their grip, each movement sending shockwaves of pain through his body, but the humans are stronger than him. They hold down his tail first, then large, disgusting hands pin his arms to the deck.

“Lets see how loud you can scream, hm?” Joker says, kneeling where skin is replaced by scales. 

Jason presses his lips together and clenches his aching jaw. He won’t give him what he wants. He _won’t._ Even if this is a pitiful excuse for a last stand, even it might bring some relief to this living horror, Jason will. Not. Crumble. 

Cold metal presses against his scales, and a whimper bubbles up in his throat. 

Jason thinks of Alfred, waiting at home with freshly made desserts, waiting for him to come back with a report of an uneventful night. He probably has a new book picked out to read tonight. Jason thinks of Dick, adventuring the deep and saving lives with his makeshift pod. He thinks of little Tim, who will come back to the bay to find it emptier than it had been, and more alone than before. 

And Bruce. Is he really on his way? Or is he at home with Alfred, checking the clock and watching the bay for Jason’s return? What Jason would give to be lectured for staying out too late. It would mean he’d be home. It would mean he’d be with his dad. 

“This is going to be so much fun - for me,” Joker amends, “definitely not you.”

The first slice only hurts a lot. Jason clenches his jaw tight enough that it creaks as he balls his hands into fists, trying his damnedest not to scream. The sting of his claws cutting into his palms barely distracts from the teeth of the saw catching on scales, ripping them loose and scraping against the skin underneath. 

Joker doesn’t pause. He drags the saw back, forth, back, forth. 

It hurts, so _fucking much._

Silent tears stream down Jason’s face and he jerks with every cut. In his mind he’s trying to remove himself from the situation. He’s trying to think of the ocean, of Alfred, of Bruce and Tim. He’s trying to convince himself that he’s anywhere but here. 

The saw gets through to something particularly painful - Jason can’t suppress a strangled whimper. 

“Oh, you liked that?” Joker says. Jason can barely hear him around the pounding in his ears. “Lets see if you can get louder.”

He stops sawing for a brief, wonderful moment, then renews his efforts with vigor. The saw makes horrible tearing sounds as it cuts through flesh faster than before. 

The pain jumps from crashing waves to a roaring tsunami of agony, a continuous sensation that makes him arch his back and keen to the sky. 

It’s too much. It’s too fucking much, Jason can’t even see or breathe around it - 

He screams. 

He tried _so hard_ not to, but he’s never even imagined a pain like this. It’s overriding his sense of self and all rationality.

Jason screams, and sobs, and writhes under his captors, and underneath it all Joker _laughs._

“BRUCE!” Jason cries. He wants this to stop - he wants to go home. He’d do anything to have Bruce save him, hold him, and tell him everything will be okay. Even if Jason didn’t survive, he’d rather die in his dad’s arms than on the deck of a hunter’s ship. “BRUCE, PLEASE!”

Joker laughs gleefully. “So it _can_ speak! You should’a spoken up sooner, kiddo, then maybe this wouldn’t be happening.”

The sawing stops as he lifts the tool up to inspect it. It’s completely red, and there are solid chunks caught in the teeth.

They’re bits of his organs, Jason realizes. He chokes on the bile rising in his throat and sobs harder.

“Whaddya know,” Joker says, “Your insides are different than ours. They’re all in the wrong places.”

He giggles and goes back to work. Jason desperately wishes this could just end. He wants to pass out, _bleed_ out, _anything_ to escape this. Death would be a kindness. 

“BRUCE!” Jason shrieks between blood-curdling screams. “BRUCE - DAD!”

Jason should’ve listened. If he was a better son, he’d have stayed in the bay. He could’ve eaten souffle with his family, then dozed off in Bruce’s arms to the sound of Alfred reading. 

“DAD! _DAD!”_

“Your daddy can’t hear you,” Joker chuckles. His voice sounds far away. “Whoever he is, he can’t save you...but maybe we’ll be nice and leave him a little present.”

Jason doesn’t feel the saw cutting through bone. He hears it - oh, he hears the horrific grinding sound that fills his ears and shakes his broken chest. He can’t even scream anymore. The last cry for Bruce was all he had left, and now he’s left laying in his own blood, staring blankly at the Joker. The humans aren’t even holding him down anymore. Each breath comes slower than the last.

“Yes, this will do nicely.” Joker puts the saw down and lifts something long, black, and shiny with blood. The jagged end of it has a dark, glistening mass hanging out. A piece of it trails on the deck.

Distantly, Jason recognizes it as his tail. His claws twitch uselessly as it’s brought away from his body.

_Give it back,_ he tries to say, but all that comes out is a soft wheeze. 

The humans are prodding the tail and laughing with Joker. Only a few of them look queasy. 

One of them lifts the end by the tail fin and says, “What the hell is this?”

It’s the red cord Bruce made for him. 

Fresh tears slip down Jason’s cheeks, not that he can feel it. He can’t feel much of anything anymore.

“Some little trinket, who cares,” another human says. 

Joker tilts the tail to give Jason a full view. “You still in there, buster?”

Jason closes his eyes. It’s a small respite to guard himself from the sight of his own organs spilling from his severed tail. 

“It’s still alive?” someone gasps.

“Well, that answers that question,” Joker cackles. “Let's get going - I’m sure our _benefactor_ won’t mind just having half.”

Somehow, Jason doesn’t mind that he’s about to die. It’s better than living in this hell for another moment, or seeing wherever they’re taking him. 

There’s a distant splash, not that Jason can hear it. He feels fuzzy, almost...soft. Comfortable. His last breaths rattle in his chest. 

He just wishes he could tell Bruce he’s sorry.

There’s so much he wishes.

At least they can't hurt him anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Then Bruce finds his severed tail and his heart shatters irreparably. Sorry B, it had to happen ~~no it didn't~~
> 
> As always, comments keep me going, and thank you for reading! 
> 
> Curse me out @ [Batshit-Birds](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/batshit-birds) on Tumblr


End file.
